


Le Libertin

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, French Revolution au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaguely French Revolution AU PWP for greenkneehighs, who was having a bad day. All linguistic manglings are mine and mine alone. Thanks to the lovely crowd at little_details for historical clothing details and general advice, and to Kyle for the French bits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Libertin

"It's _raining_!" The Princesse d'Arendelle said, storming into Han's private chambers as if the weather had given her personal insult. She was holding a floppy hat aloft in one hand, a straw banner streaming ribbons and roses behind her. It drooped at her side when she saw M. Citron peering at her myopically from behind his glasses. 

Hans, who had thrown aside his notes in a fit of childish pique, scrambled to clear up the mess of books and papers on his bed, fumbling for the buttons of his waistcoat at the same time. 

" _Je désolé!_ " the Princesse said. "What are you doing?"

"M. Citron is my French tutor," Hans said, shuffling the papers in his hands into order. "We were having a lesson. Would the _Princesse_ like to join in?" 

"Lessons!" she said, "But you're a Prince! Your French is already perfect!" 

He smiled at that, enjoying her blush. "Even a Prince must study, if it is not his first language," he said. 

"Ah-" She dropped her hat onto his bed and flipped one of his books open. She clearly wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. 

"You should practice with me," the Princesse said, leaning over to read the page she had flipped to. Her bosom heaved with the movement, barely constrained by her low-cut bodice, and Hans let his eyes linger on the sight. 

" _Je vais lui apprendre, M. Citron,_ " she said, turning her smile on his tutor. M. Citron gave her an obsequious bow, and turned to go, recognizing royal dismissal when he heard it. Princesse Anna was distracted from his books before the door had even closed. 

"Your hat!" she said, darting across the room to snatch up the item in question. It was newly arrived from the milliner, not even worn yet, and Hans watched mild chagrin as she tried it on. The color suited her perfectly, even if the bow clashed with her dress. 

"Well?" She twirled in place, smiling. "Shall I start a new fashion? No?"

"Could I stop you?" he asked, settling onto the bed. She stopped spinning and gave him a fond smile. 

"I wanted you to come and walk with me in the gardens," she said, pushing the hat off of her brow. A tendril of red hair escaped her coiffure and dangled over her ear. 

"It would have been a pleasure," Hans said.

"Yes," she said. She pouted a little, and then came over and sank down on the bed beside him, depositing the hat on his head as she went. 

" _Je m'ennuie_ ," she sighed, flopping back onto his bed dramatically.

"I'm sure we can find something else to do," Hans said, tearing his gaze away from her chest with some difficulty. He took the hat off and slung it over a bedpost.

"I'll teach you French," she said. She was holding a page of his notes over her head. 

"You did promise M. Citron that you wouldn't let me neglect my studies," he teased.

"Ah, oui," she sighed. She dropped the paper and indicated her lips with one slender finger. 

" _Bisous_ ," she said. Hans smiled.

The finger pointed at him, and then waggled. 

"Come on," Anna said. 

" _Bisous_ ," Hans repeated, stretching out beside her on the bed. "I know that one." He leaned down and pecked her on the lips. 

She untied the ribbon at her throat and let it fall aside. 

" _Le cou,_ " she said. Hans pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her jaw, inhaling her perfume, and then kissed her neck. She shivered under his touch. 

He pulled back. "Should we be doing this?" he asked. It was common knowledge that the Queen was seeking a match for her younger sister. Anna huffed and twined an arm around his neck, pulling him back down. 

"She can't do anything to me," Anna said, "I know her secrets." 

"Her secrets?" Hans repeated. His face was a mask of bored indifference as he nuzzled at her neck. Perhaps she had a cunning streak after all. 

"I would never use it," Anna added. "But I _could_. So if she finds out about you-" another shrug. She unpinned the handkerchief at her throat, fingers brisk, and then pulled him down for a kiss, her mouth soft and wet. He nipped at her lip, making her giggle, and slid a finger under the edge of her bodice. Her nipples were already hard, and she gasped when he rubbed two fingers over her skin.

"And what color are these?" he asked, " _Rose? Brun?_ I must know."

She made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a gasp, and started fumbling with her bodice. Her dress was adorned with silk rosettes, and she produced a pin from underneath one of them. He helped her to find the other pins in her bodice, and watched as her gown fell open beneath his hands. She sat up, her face a hairsbreadth from his own, and wriggled out of the gown. The stomacher, bejewelled and embroidered, she set aside on the broad expanse of his bed; the dress was tossed onto a chair, striped silk pooling on the ground. 

"Your dress is lovely," he murmured, tugging at the lacing of her corset, "but there's altogether too _much_ of it." 

She smiled against his skin, still pressed close to him, and pulled at his cravat until it slid from around his neck. 

"I should wear your clothes," she said, and his hands clenched on her waist as he choked on nothing at all. 

" _Vær så venlig,_ " Hans said, surprised at the desire that swept through him at the image of Anna wearing breeches. " _S'il te plait_ ," he translated, when Anna looked at him blankly. She looped his cravat around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

"I'll speak to Mlle. Taillour," she said. She dropped the cravat and pushed his vest off of his shoulders. Hans took her hands in his, pulling them away from his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her reddened knuckles. Elsa was all white and pink, icy perfection from shimmering head to pointed toe, but Anna was less fastidious. Her face and shoulders were dotted with freckles that resisted all the lemon-and-rose masks her maid could concoct. Hans lifted his lips from her fingers to pay closer attention to the constellation of freckles on her chest. 

"Hans," she gasped. He pulled away from her skin and stripped his vest off where it had caught on his arms, and, with Anna's help, pulled his shirt over his head. The slide of cloth against his engorged cock was maddening. He pulled Anna upright with a sharp tug, and untied the ties of her silk petticoat. Their hands knocked against each other, working on the laces and bows of her petticoats and hoops, and then- _finally_ \- the whole thing, pockets and all, fell to the floor, leaving Anna in her shift and stays. Her corset was already half-undone, and they unlaced it and shucked it off hastily, foreheads pressed together as they worked.

"Bed-" Anna dipped her head and pressed her lips to his. "Now, Hans." 

Hans lifted Anna bodily out of the pile of linen and whalebone on the ground and deposited her on the bed, enjoying the feel of her softness beneath his hands. One of her stockings had fallen down, exposing the skin behind her knee, and he dipped his head to nibble there. He was rewarded with a gentle kick to his side, which was followed by Anna's legs closing around his waist. 

" _Hans,_ " she said, reaching for the buttons on his trousers. He could feel his own stockings sliding down his legs as he fell onto the bed, pinning her underneath him. Her chemise was rucked up above her waist, and she lifted her hips invitingly, feet crossed behind his back. She was so _small_ , he thought hazily, planting a hand on the bed beside her face. He was a tall man, bigger than most, but Anna was truly petite. She groaned as he pushed into her, eyes closing, and arched her back to accommodate him.

" _Ça va?_ " he murmured, thrusting into her. Anna laughed breathlessly. " _Ça va!_ " she gasped, moving to meet him. She dug her nails into his bare back, pulling him closer, and the world whited out for a moment. He thrust into her tight, hot body again, enjoying her helpless sounds of pleasure, and let her twine herself more closely around him. Pressure was building at the base of his spine, and he thought, distantly, that he should pull out, let himself splatter across her pale stomach and her soft thighs. Anna dug her nails into his spine, keening, and it was suddenly too late. He came before he could pull out, spilling his seed inside of her royal body, and she only groaned and held him closer, legs clamping around his waist. 

He let her ride out the last waves of her orgasm, shuddering underneath his body, and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. Sweat beaded her forehead and they were both breathing heavily. He pulled out of her slowly, and tucked himself back into his pants before he tugged her chemise down to her knees. White fluid was trickling down the inside of her thigh.

Hans watched the flush disappear from her face as she realized what they had done. They had always been careful before, using their hands and their tongues instead of their bodies, making sure that he came safely on her belly or face, so that no child could be planted in her womb. They stared at each other for a moment, white-faced, and then Anna rolled upright. She slid off of his bed, wide eyes still fixed on his face, and reached for her stays. He helped her dress, sloppily, and draped his cloak over her shoulders when she was done. It was far too large for her, but it would hide the worst of the damage to her gown. 

"It'll be all right," Anna said, tying the cloak at her neck. "Elsa will understand." She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. 

"Perhaps you're not-" Hans said. 

"Perhaps!" Anna said, blanching. Hans thought of his passel of brothers, a dozen princes waiting back home, and winced. 

He rubbed his hands together and pulled Anna in for a farewell kiss. 

"I love you," she whispered. He kissed her again and closed the door behind her when she left. 

She had left her straw hat, he noticed, as he sank into the chaise that had recently been covered by her gown. He pulled one of the roses off, enjoying the wrench of thread and cloth beneath his fingers, and tossed the hat on the ground. 

Perhaps. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he had hit his mark. He ripped a petal off of the rose, and allowed himself to smile.


End file.
